Mighty Oaks
by LouisaJosephine
Summary: Henrietta Stilinski - sister to resident dork Stiles, friend to nerd turned werewolf Scott, best friend to Isaac and still kind of on the rocks with Derek. Henrietta likes to have things figured out, but this time she's in for a surprise - there is more to the town than just rabid mountain lions. Isaac/OC - rating may go up as the story progresses.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I had a chapter similar to this posted before but didn't like the way it went, so this is my second attempt. I just want to disclose that my retirement from writing has now officially ended but I'm trying to work through some things by writing this. Many things that happen to Henrietta in the course of this story have happened to me, of course except for the supernatural stuff. I hope you like this and please do review. It makes my day/morning/evening/afternoon/night/week/year when you do. xx L.

**Chapter 1**

Often when the combatants are ranged face to face, and swords are drawn and spears bristling, these men come between the armies and stay the battle, just as wild beasts are sometimes held spellbound. Thus even among the most savage barbarians anger yields to wisdom, and Mars is shamed before the Muses.

_-Diodorus Siculus Histories c.8 BCE_

* * *

„Things have been weird lately," I told her, picking some weeds from in between long withered flowers, not knowing why I bothered when everything looked dead anyway. "No one's telling me anything anymore, I think-"

Footsteps crushing pebbles under their soles coming from behind me interrupted me. Startled I hastily got up from the ground, behind me stood a boy my age, to me he seemed to be roughly 10 feet tall.

I recognized him from somewhere but couldn't for the life of me place his face or his admittedly lovely curly hair. The two of us stared at each other for a few seconds, looking for all I knew like two deers caught in the headlights.

"Hi." I said awkwardly, embarrassed turning to brush off some grass from my skirt.

"Hi." He replied looking just as awkward. I looked over my shoulder and then back to him.

"You must think I'm some sort of freak." I said pointing to the gray headstone. He shook his head no.

"People usually come here to talk to the dead," He said rubbing his neck. "It's just-"

"Do you work here?" I asked interrupting him, looking at the rake he was holding pointedly trying to steer his attention away from my mother's grave.

"Y-yeah, yeah." He said nodding. "Do you want me to help you with the uh-" He asked gesturing to the mess her mother's grave was. Help with everything he meant.

"That'd be great actually." I decided after a short pause of guilty feelings overwhelming me. He dropped his tools and began rolling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt revealing a pair of nice arms.

"What do I-"

"We'll have to get rid of all the dead plants." He said and began raking the patch, effectively pulling out both weeds and the flowers that once were tulips and roses.

"You mean we have to get rid of everything." I observed watching him make work of his arm muscles.

"Yeah," He chuckled. "When was the last time you were here?"

My face fell as crippling guilt surged and overcame me "Six years ago." I murmured fidgeting, he turned around looking apologetic. "

I didn't mean to-"

"S'alright." I said brushing it off with a smile that didn't feel sincere. He went back to raking as I watched him. Her mother would've been disappointed by what had become of her grave and memory.

"I'm Henrietta by the way."

"I know - you're Stiles' sister," I narrowed my eyes but didn't say anything, it was always 'you are Stiles sister' never 'I sit behind you in Chemistry' or 'we once partnered on a project'. "And you sit behind me in Chemistry."

Oh.

"Really? I could've sworn I would recognize those curls anywhere." I blushed red realizing what I had just said. _Great_. He turned around and grinned at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes

"Yeah?"

Despite feeling embarrassed denying it now wouldn't work. "Yeah." I admitted grinning as well.

"I'm Isaac," He said offering his hand to me, looking at it I noticed dirt on it, following my gaze he did too and retracted it, sheepishly. "Sorry."

I shook my head dismissing the apology and held out my own hand, it was stained as well. "It's okay, I used my fingers before." He grasped and squeezed it. I would've never admitted to it but his large hand engulfing mine felt nice.

"You are on the lacrosse team as well, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, number 14. I'm surprised you didn't recognize me, you are always watching the games." The realization that while I had stared off and imagined myself elsewhere and subsequently hadn't noticed him, he had.

"I just go for my brother and the unlikely chance that he might play." He laughed thinking of Stiles actually on the field - playing, Finstock would have to be recovering from some very heavy whiplash for that to ever become reality.

"Done. In about two months time we can start planting," He said straightening up. "If you want to." He added suddenly looking less confident, I scowled.

"You mean because I didn't care before?" I snapped, he backtracked immediately.

"No! I meant 'we' as in us doing it together, I wasn't - I didn't. That's not what I meant at all."

Oh.

Drawing my own conclusions didn't seem to be working for me. At all.

"Huh." I said, intelligent and coherent as ever. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, today is just not a good day for me. Although, that's of course not a good excuse." He looked at me strangely but nodded. I felt relieved, I hadn't meant to push him away just yet. "And thanks, I think my Mom would appreciate it." I added gesturing to the freshly raked earth.

"No problem, Hen." He replied smiling again, it was a really nice smile with dimples that made his eyes light up. The honking of a car interrupted us to my surprise a police car was waiting at the gate, the engine was running.

"I gotta go." I said shouldering the bag that had been lying on the ground and turning around.

"I'll see you in two months then?" Isaac asked, I turned around to face him.

"I actually thought of tomorrow at lunch." We grinned at each other and I waved to him as I jogged to the police car, that turned out to not be my fathers. Inside sat Deputy Freeman or Sebastian as I knew him, I leaned on the frame of the rolled down window and smiled at him. "For a moment there I thought you were someone else."

"Who else would it be?"

"I don't know? Maybe the man that calls himself my father, carries a gun and a Sheriff's badge."

"Well, aren't you glad then that I'm not him?" He asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously pushing the door open. "Get in, babe."

* * *

His hands were on my hips and waist, rubbing along my skin under my shirt. His thumb trailed over my hipbone and caught in the hem of my shirt, pulling it up. We were both breathing heavily.

"Are we really gonna do this back-alley-in-a-car-groping-thing like two desperate teenagers?" I asked stopping him from pulling my shirt off completely. He looked at me grinned and kissed me on the mouth.

"One of us is."

"Desperate?" I asked snickering.

"No, a teenager." He said and kissed me, again trying to take my shirt off.

"Seriously, Seb. What if somebody sees us?" I slid from beneath him and got into a sitting position leaning my back against the car door.

"Like you said it's a back alley, nobody comes here." Sebastian insisted, caressing my cheek with his hand.

"Are you really willing to risk a life in jail for a quickie behind a bar?" I asked turning away from his hand.

"You've got a point." He said looking disappointed.

"Come on," I said and moved in closer to kiss him.

"No need to look so disappointed." I coaxed despite feeling oddly relieved that nothing was happening nor would happen.

"Next time, let's just meet at my place when I have a shift off." He suggested his hands wandering back to my hips. "Cool." I said despite feeling the exact opposite of cool. And that feeling wasn't hot either.

* * *

Sebastian ended up driving me home, letting me out a few blocks away from where I lived in fear of anyone seeing us.

As I walked down the sidewalk I wondered whether I had made the right decision to get in the car with him that first time back in September.

I didn't know how I had found myself in his car with his hands all over me in the middle of autumn, Adele playing on the radio repeating 'someone like you' over and over again. I wasn't in love with him, I admired him.

„Hey, dickwad."I said upon finding Stiles lounging on the couch playing 'Call of Duty' while aggressively eating seven bags of Doritos.

"Chick." He greeted me spraying orange crumbs and saliva everywhere.

"Gross." I admonished plopping down on the sofa next to him.

"Wanna play?" He asked through another handful of Doritos handing me the controller. "Try not to blow yourself up this time." I rolled my eyes at him and began strategically backstabbing him in his own virtual world.

We played for half an hour before Dad came, he found his two children covered in Doritos and heatedly discussing whether Iron Man would win in a fight against Batman and if the roles of their deceased parents had a significant influence on their fighting styles.

"I hope you are still hungry," Dad said with a look to the Doritos in my hair. "Shift's not over yet but I thought we could grab something." Stiles immediately dropped the controller.

"Sounds like a plan." He said, where there was food there was Stiles – nothing compelled the boy more than the prospect of feeding into his ridiculous teenage boy metabolism.

"Get going." Dad instructed picking a Dorito from my hair, ushering us to the cruiser.

Tradition was something the Stilinskis had done to boot, it almost had a compulsive quality to it when I sat in between my father and brother perched on a pillow chowing down on fries and a burger.

"Did they forget my curly fries?" Dad asked looking disappointed by the lack of fries in his bag.

"You are not supposed to eat fries, especially the curly ones." Stiles answered making both Dad and I scowl. I knew exactly why my brother was this oddly protective sometimes, I could relate, anything to keep my father alive and well for a few more years.

Between his job and the eating habits we had adapted to, curly fries were the smallest threat to be honest.

"Well, I'm carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries." The Sheriff answered, the creases around his eyes crinkling.

"If you think getting rid of contractions in all your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong." Stiles said his tone rising with the last three words, when the Sheriff didn't answer Stiles returned to his straw looking smug.

"I think you are kind of right." I chimed and handed Dad some of my fries, Stiles resorted to physical violence by punching my upper thigh.

That hurt despite him being incredibly dangly. I made an indignant noise of pain and was about to retaliate when the radio went off.

"Unit one, do you copy?" Stiles hand immediately reached out for it, muscle memory working it's magic. Both Dad and I reached out to push Stiles' grabby hand away, though the Sheriff was faster in smacking his sons hand away. Stiles stared at the rest of his family, with his mouth open.

"Sorry." He conceded looking only half apologetic, mostly he just seemed offended by the smack.

"Unit one, copy."

"Got a report of a possible 187." The dispatch explained and the Stilinski siblings reacted in an eerie moment of synchronization.

"A murder?" Stiles and I asked simultaneously, earning us a look from Dad that clearly said 'not again'.

Though that was probably more directed at Stiles than at me. I had, unlike Stiles, not deemed it a smart maneuver to roam the woods in search for half a body.

"Buckle up." He ordered, I uncrossed my legs and slid to Stiles onto his seat and let him fasten the seat-belt over the two of us.

That used to be much more comfortable when we were younger and puberty hadn't struck me with a plethora of body fat (in all the wrong places).

The Video 2C parking lot was packed with EMTs, police cars and with the usual morbidly curious spectators. I winced at the sight of the gurney.

"Stay here." Dad said turning to instruct one of the Deputy's. Stiles looked crushed but I couldn't care less I wasn't about to scar my youthful innocence by seeing a body. But then from my peripheral view I could see Sebastian in his cruiser talking over the radio.

Against my better judgment I unbuckled us and climbed over the driver's seat to the door. Stiles didn't even notice as my brother was too enticed by the things around him.

I knocked on Sebastian's open door to announce myself, he turned around apparently startled to see me.

"What are you _doing_?" He hissed and grabbed me by my arm pulling me around the car, out of sight.

"Ouch." I hissed pulling my arm from his grasp.

"What are you doing, Hen?" He repeated his eyes were hard and icy.

"I just wanted...to know what's going on." I said scrambling for an answer surprised by the way he treated me.

His gaze softened immediately. "We think it's the mountain lion again, he attacked one of the store employees."

I scowled and looked over to where my father stood and where Jackson Whittemore was announcing his discomfort in a manner that said nothing much about his manners except that they were severely lacking. That jackass.

"Is that a body?" I followed my brother's gaze and felt sick when my eyes fell on the body.

"This doesn't make any sense." I assessed, my frown deepening.

"What doesn't?" Sebastian asked.

"For one mountain lions don't go into territories where there are humans and second a moun-"

"Don't get in over your head, Nancy Drew. The police is more than capable," He shut me up and grabbed me by the arm again steering me in the direction of my father's car.

"Now, go." He said giving me a push.

Stiles was still curiously staring at his surroundings and hadn't noticed my disappearance, that was until I appeared next to him. He looked from me to the seat behind him and then back to me.

"Where were you?" He asked.

"I asked Freeman what happened." I said pointing to the cruiser.

"And?" He prompted when I didn't immediately disclose all the information.

"They think it's the mountain lion again," Stiles, to my surprise, looked relieved. "But that doesn't make any sense does it?" I added challenging him to agree with me but my brother just shrugged, dropping the topic like a hot potato.

I had spent weeks trying to get behind what my brother knew and was up to.

But nothing, he hadn't disclosed a single thing, neither how he knew that Derek Hale had killed his sister or buried her, or how Scott had gotten so good at Lacrosse, surely it wasn't because they had used me as human goal for the better part of the summer.

* * *

A/N: Don't forget to review! :) I hate to be that person but it takes 2 reviews and I will continue, please just say something. xxxxx L.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Between Stiles ignoring me in favor of spending even more time with his brother from another mother and Scott's new found athletic stardom there was no room for me at their table and so I had taken to sitting where Byron or whatever his names was, sat.

I enjoyed sitting at one of the table while he read one of his books at the other end because we didn't have to talk and I subsequently didn't get a chance to humiliate myself.

* * *

I was just about to make my way to the table, balancing water and a fruit salad on my tray when Stiles appeared next to me, scaring me so badly that I almost dropped my food. "Have you seen Scott? I haven't seen him since I got here."

Ah right, what else would it be about?

"I haven't seen him, is he sick?" I asked bringing the bottle back to balance by holding it in place.

"Right, because he wouldn't have told me that he's sick."

"So he's ditching school?" Stiles threw his hands above his head, shrugging as if to say 'don't ask me'. "Harris is not going to like it." I chimed walking to my table where Isaac was already waiting.

"Aren't you sitting with me?" Stiles called after me sounding distraught but I just shrugged, I wasn't going to play filler for Scott. Not when Isaac was waiting for me.

"Hi." I said setting the tray down, Isaac smiled at me.

"Hi Henrietta," Isaac hesitated and then added: "You don't have to sit here, you can sit with Stiles if you want to."

"Nah, the prick has been ditching me since the start of the semester and I can do with a little time away from his sarcasm. Besides, he only wants me to sit with him because his BFF has ditched him."

"I'm sure that's not true." Isaac said looking to where my brother now sat glowering at my back. I gave him a thumbs up.

"Oh, but it is," I said. "It's okay, I'm used to it." I added when he didn't look convinced.

We sat in silence for a while, apparently neither of knew what to say. I stared out of the window, imagining myself in bed trying to convince myself that Chemistry had it's merits and that maintaining a good GPA was worth suffering through another period of Mr. Harris having a go at either Stiles or any other student he deemed unworthy.

Scott's idea of just walking away and ditching seemed more and more like a good idea.

"So, Isaac?"

Isaac looked up his eyebrows knitted. "Yeah?"

"How do you feel about ditching school?" His face fell and I felt guilty for even bringing it up.

"Uh-"

"It's alright it was just a crackpot idea, I didn't mean we have to do it. God no. I'm not usually like that-"

"It's okay." He said interrupting my stream of words. "Chemistry doesn't sound too good to me either."

"Okay." I mumbled popping a piece of melon in my mouth.

"So?"

I raised my eyebrow at him my fork hanging in midair. "So?"

"So, aren't we going to, you know, skip?" He asked and I dropped the fork grasped his hand in mine and squeezed it. Taking him by surprise. "You make me so happy, Isaac." I beamed not letting go of his hand.

"Leave the trays?" He asked with a glance to our boring lunches.

"Leave the trays." I confirmed, let go of his hand and stood up. A glance over my shoulder confirmed that Stiles wasn't looking anymore and that Isaac and I were good to go.

We shouldered our bags and made our way to the exit doors, one after the other we disappeared down the halls trying our best not to look suspicious. Probably failing as we both were incredibly skittish and keeping your head down made it hard not run over any freshmen.

Once safely outside the realization dawned on me that without Stiles car we would be unable to get away fast enough without anyone noticing unless we went over the lacrosse field and through the woods.

"We can take my bicycle." Isaac offered pointing to his shabby way of transportation, which in the moment didn't seem so shabby at all.

"That'll do."

* * *

His bicycle rack was far more comfortable than I had expected even when we hit potholes on our way to wherever our getaway lead us. Clutching onto his sweatshirt that had bypassed the description well-worn and had went to trash right away, I felt like I could finally breath again.

School hadn't been my thing for a while now, I never felt comfortable in any of my classes anymore despite being at the top of my classes when I had started the first semester.

That was until one of the Beacon Hills police cruisers rounded the corner, my heart stopped at the thought of losing my new found freedom to my Dad and exchanging it for a lecture.

Isaac had the same thought and made a swift swerve to the right down a street with symmetrical single-family houses.

Looking over my shoulder I could see the cruiser following us, I realized it wasn't my Dad when the car pulled up next to us, exceeding the speed limit by a few miles. It was Sebastian, somehow for reasons I couldn't fathom a shiver ran down my spine.

"Stop!" I called to Isaac who despite looking confused stopped pedaling and let me slid ungracefully of the rack.

He looked at me with an expression I couldn't place and all I could do was shrug at him.

Sebastian honked at us drawing my attention to him. I pulled the door of the cruiser open and slid in.

"Hi." I said fiddling with my hands pretending to be disinterested.

"One question, don't you have school right now?" Sebastian asked laughing oblivious to my growing discomfort.

"Yes, actually I do and you would do me a favor if you would keep it to yourself." I replied faking confidence.

"Tell you what, _you_ do me favor and I wont tell on you." Sebastian said and then with a look to Isaac added: "Or your little friend. If-" Sebastian drew closer and my stomach sank and I felt nauseous.

"What?" I asked my voice strained.

"If you come around on Wednesday, and I'll show you." He promised, he made a hand motion that clearly said 'now go' and I complied.

The cruiser sped off leaving me behind with a stomach sunken so far that it was competing with my ovaries. Isaac pushed his bike up to where I stood looking after the cruiser that rounded corner.

"Where do you want to go?" He asked and I couldn't have been more grateful.

"My house, please?" I asked still longing for my bed. Isaac nodded.

* * *

"That's me." I told Isaac when I found him staring at a picture of little me with little Stiles, the two of us were embracing each other and I still had a good four inches on him. Those were the times.

"So your hair is natural?" He asked sounding surprised.

"How dare you?" I asked only slightly offended. "I would never trick anyone like that!"

He nudged my ribs laughing. His touch left a slight tingle on my skin. "It's just, Stiles and you look _so _alike, I thought maybe you dyed your hair."

"Again, how dare you?" I asked amused. "Also, Stiles and I look _nothing _like each other."

He shrugged and picked up another frame, this time of Stiles, Dad, Mom and me.

"But you do, look-" He held the picture up for me to see. I didn't see it, were Stiles was dark haired and honey-brown eyed I was blonde and green-eyed, genetically he was Mom's side and I was Dad's through and through, anyone who had eyes in their head could see that.

"I don't see it." He looked at me with his forehead creased, I expected him to elaborate but he didn't, instead he placed the frame back on it's dusty place, staring at it some more. "You wanna see my room?" I asked gesturing to the oak stairs. "No homo, though." I added grinning at my joke that Stiles would probably declare appalling and would (if he could) disown me for.

"I don't think that's the way you use it." "

I don't think there is a way it _should _be used." I replied leading us up the stairs.

* * *

The lilac walls of my room seemed to overwhelm Isaac completely, he had turned quiet as soon as we had entered. Not that he was a very talkative person to begin with. He had much the same reaction that I had had when I first saw what my Dad and Stiles had done to my room.

My Dad and brother had repainted the room one summer when I had been at camp, it was later that I found out that the single Dad handbook had insisted that the Dad 'should preserve his daughters femininity', Dad had apparently interpreted this as 'paint your daughter's room lilac'.

It had taken me some time to come to terms with my room looking like it was straight out of a Barbie commercial but I had eventually gotten around to it and now I actually liked it. Isaac apparently didn't.

"It takes some time but you'll get used to it." I told him plopping down onto my complimentary sheets.

"Huh?"

"The walls." I said and he nodded absentmindedly, I tapped on the space next to me inviting him to sit with me.

"What's with the movie poster?" Isaac asked looking at the 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' poster that was hung up on my door.

"Oh that? My mom really loved the movie, it used to be hers. I'm actually named after one of the characters." I explained to him. "Now, what do you want to do? I have two movies on VHS – 101 Dalmatians and Four Weddings and a Funeral – you decide."

We eventually decided on watching Hugh Grant trying to win the girl, Isaac didn't seem too enthusiastic but what could you do?

"So you are telling me I had Art, Culinary, Chemistry and Algebra with you for the last semester and I never noticed you!?" I asked, surprised by my own capacity of obliviousness. "I can't believe it." I mumbled trying to recall anything but coming up blank.

Isaac Lahey had been in my field of vision – just there – and I hadn't noticed him, neither in class nor on the lacrosse field. Hugh Grant was still doing his usual shtick of adorable half mumbling and puppy eyes on the TV but we had moved onto other topics.

Isaac was leaning against my headboard, arms crossed over his chest. He looked relaxed for the first time that I've – actually – seen him. I was curled up on his left side, like a cat I had my knees drawn to my chest. "

It's okay." He said but I didn't feel okay to me. I had always prided myself on the fact that I knew people, that I saw people, realizing that in fact people saw me but I didn't see them was disheartening.

"It's not." I firmly replied.

Stiles came through my door unannounced – he had somehow never developed the ability to knock – and found Isaac and I comfortably sprawled out on my bed.

"Whoa!" He blurted and covered his eyes with his hand. "_That's_ what you were ditching for?!"

I blushed red and avoided looking at Isaac. "That's not what this is!" I cried vehemently, my brother reluctantly removed half of his hand and peered at us.

"Thank god." He breathed. Isaac shook his stupor and rose from the bed, flexing his hands he looked around the room resembling a panicked rabbit. I looked to Stiles who stared at Isaac.

"Hi Isaac." Stiles smirked, watching Isaac grab his bag from the floor, clearly enjoying the fact that Isaac felt intimidated.

"Hi – uh, I gotta – I gotta go." Isaac stuttered averting his gaze as he pushed past Stiles through the door. The 'you don't have to go' died on my lips.

"Bye Isaac." Stiles called after him a smug smile playing on his lips. Isaac didn't react, his footsteps disappeared down the hall keeping his head down.

"Was that really necessary?" I hissed switching the TV off.

"I was just doing my brotherly duty." Stiles tipped his head, the smug expression never leaving his face.

"It's 2011 not 1311." I intoned, my brows creased.

"So you are not denying it."

"Denying what?"

"That you have a little crush on Lahey."

"Oh my god! Shut up!"

"Remember the more you deny it the harder it gets to believe you."

With that he pulled the door shut leaving me to ponder whether giving Stiles up for adoption was still an option. And if that was still possible if Dad would go along with it.

* * *

It was a few hours later that Stiles repeated his annoying habit of simply entering my room – on that note I should probably get a lock – ripping me out of a nap. The door hit the book shelve behind it sending some of my tchotchkes to the floor.

I jerked from my pillow, disorientated at best looking at my brother with wide eyes.

"Wha-?" I asked muffled by my blonde hair that was glued to my lips.

"It's Dad-" Stiles said trailing off strangled, my heart sank to my boots. I immediately assumed the worst, as soon as Stiles realized how what he had said sounded to me he scrambled to rectify what he had done.

"NO! No, he's not – that's not what I meant. He's in the hospital." "Oh. My. God," I breathed clutching my chest.

"You can't just come in here and then say something like that. You scared me, Stiles!" We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us speaking as we thought about the unthinkable.

I remember quite clearly how Stiles suffered after Mom's death and how every time that Dad had to go to work Stiles would suffer panic attacks. It went so far that at one point that he was in such hysterics that he passed out on the kitchen floor.

There it was again, the face expression I dreaded on my brother's face, he seemed pained and worse – guilty. Like it was his fault that Dad had gotten hurt.

"What happened?" I inquired swinging my legs out of my comfortable blanket nest.

"The mountain lion was in the school parking lot and while everyone was running around like hysterical chickens with their heads cut off someone hit Dad with a car." He replied sounding shaky and bitter, the dreadful expression never leaving his face. The mountain lion? I couldn't believe that there actually _was_ a mountain lion, a living breathing one.

"Is it alright?"

"What kind of question is that?" Stiles snapped. "Who cares about that _thing_, Henrietta. Dad got injured!" I blinked at him completely unprepared for his reaction.

"I know." I said meekly.

"Good," He said curtly. "I'm driving to the Hospital now, you can come – unless you want to go to the school to see whether your precious cougar is still breathing and maiming."

We sat in silence in Stiles' blue jeep, a stain on the seat had caught my attention, it was dark almost black if I hadn't known better I would've thought it was blood but that couldn't possibly be true. It had to be some boy thing I didn't want to ask about.

The radio was blaring an obnoxious country song, the banjo sounded like a cat getting strangled.

"Can we change the station?" I asked carefully keeping my tone neutral. Stiles didn't reply but instead passive-aggressivly hit one of the buttons with much more force than needed, stoically staring forward.

I knew immediately what he was doing.

"I'm not playing the blame game." I said as calm as possible. The blame game was one of the many Stilinski Olympic disciplines that Stiles excelled in, along with the 'never talk about mom's death' discipline. Stiles remained stony silent for another few blocks before he decided to answer: "You were the one who decided today was a good day to skip school and distract Dad."

"Oh my god. You do realize how that sounds? I can't skip school because Dad might get distracted? Wow," He shrugged and we fell silent again. I was fuming, I itched to tell him who exactly was the one who distracted Dad the most.

I mean, after all I wasn't the one on the hunt for bodies and Derek Hale.

"One day he's going to get injured on duty and you'll find a sick roundabout way to blame me. I'm sick of it." With that I pressed the button again and crossed my arms over my chest.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, thanks to Annie for leaving a review it's very appreciated. :) I hope to hear more from you guys and I also promise that the next chapter is going to be far more eventful. Xxx L.


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